Life After Death

Juliet/Hazel: babies

                 

{Juliet}

I had locked the man in one of my holding cells while Parsifal found his wife. I wasn't sure what was taking so long, but I would have to sit on my hands until he got back.

"Hello Juliet." Mirael didn't knock before she entered, and went to sit at her makeshift desk before I responded. Jave wriggled out of her grasp and ran over to me while his mother worked on paperwork.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. "Did you make people better?"

The last time I had seen him, we were headed to the hospital. I nodded, a bit reluctant to enter a conversation with a three year old.

"I drew a picture of you this morning." Jave reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny sketchbook. At first, I was curious how a three year old could draw in something so tiny, but then he stretched the book, now taking up most of his lap. He flipped through several pages and then turned the book around.

It was a picture of me, Quinn, Finran, and the official from Aushim. The official was hovering in the air and Finran's wings were ruffled and he was looking up at an angry looking Quinn. I had nearly expected a finger-painting, but definitely hadn't expected to see a pencil portrait of my bemused smile in Jave's notebook.

"You drew this this morning?" I inquired. "Mirael?"

"Hm?"

When she saw what her son was showing me, she rose with a grimace.

"Do you want it?" Jave asked.

"Sorry?"

"Do you want my drawing?"

"Why yes, I do," I told him. "This is a very nice drawing of me."

Jave beamed, ripped out the page, and bounded off. He sat against his mother's desk as she glanced at his work. Mirael sighed.

"He can draw the future," she confirmed. "Please don't tell anyone."

"Why not?" I asked. "'This is the future, not possibilities. This is...incredibly useful."

She watched her son and then shook her head. "He's three, Juliet. He doesn't know what he's doing. I'm concerned that he'll be stuck drawing what is to come and not what he loves to do." She smiled tiredly.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Lancelot and I fought today," she said. "Over his brother. I invited them over for lunch, and the children got along beautifully, but Lancelot just can't forgive Arthur. Larachime and I talked about it for a while, and she sympathizes with Lancelot, but there's not much we can do. Lancelot was a mess when I first met him. You remember, Juliet."

"He drank his weight in alcohol on more than one occasion, I remember."

It was a kind understatement. Mikaela had to stage an intervention, and he had stayed more than one night here in a holding cell. He would disappear for weeks at a time, looking for his brother. When he met Mirael, she had been the first faery to get through to him. Over time, he found a job, and moved out of the Torninc. But not before burning anything he and Arthur had shared.

When he had proposed to her, they had officially had the most normal relationship of all of his brothers. Mirael began working for me shortly after I met her. Word mages were hard to come by.

"So I'm worried," she said. "I'm worried that he will do something he's going to regret."

"We make our own choices," I told her. "And Lancelot's smart. He'll come around."